


Thursdays

by batty4u



Series: An Idiot's Guide to a Higher Education [1]
Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms
Genre: AU, College AU, M/M, Mentions of Suicide, There's a 9 year age difference if that bugs anyone, mention of self-harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-16
Updated: 2012-04-16
Packaged: 2017-11-03 18:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/384484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/batty4u/pseuds/batty4u
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint hated Thursdays more than any day of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thursdays

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter 1 of my Avengers College AU as found on Tumblr :)

“Dude you were not this fucked up last night.”

Clint groaned and rolled his head across the surface of the lab table so he could look at Tony, who was trying not to laugh. “Shut up.”

“You have the worst hangovers.”

“Shut up.”

“Seriously, that party was lame and you managed to get this fucked up.” Tony shook his head. “You must have downed a case of rum or something.”

Clint smiled. “And body shots.”

The noise Tony made got the attention of the professor, who told them to keep it down and focus on what they were doing so they didn’t blow up the classroom on accident. He also requested, not looking up from his book, that Clint pick himself up off the table so he didn’t look like a corpse, because should the department chair come in, a corpse would not bode well. 

Chuckling, Clint did as the man asked and instead chose to lean all over Tony, who was fiddling with various chemicals. “What are we doing again?”

“Why are you even in this class?”

“Why are you even in college? Again?”

“Boredom, Clint, sheer boredom. Pass me that doodad.” Tony asked, waving at a metal instrument by Clint’s hand. 

“You’re insane.”

“Yes I am.”

Clint sighed, chin on Tony’s shoulder. “No seriously what are we doing? Banner’s watching me and I swear he secretly wants to fail me for the fun of it.”

“Nah, you’re too cute for that.”

“Shut up.”

Tony winked at him. “It’s basic Chemistry, Clint. No worries. Hand me that. Thanks. You and I can grab dinner tonight and I’ll try and explain it in caveman terms, kay?”

Clint watched as the liquid Tony was working with flashed three different colors before settling a murky brown. “Sounds like a date.”

“Rhodey thinks we’re dating,” Tony said, dumping the liquid and rinsing the beaker.

“Dude, what?”

Tony shrugged. “Apparently we are joined at the hip and making goo-goo eyes at each other.”

“Ew.”

“Yeah. He’s just jealous you and I are getting laid and he isn’t.”

“Alright ladies and gents,” Banner called from the front, closing his book and getting to his feet. “That’s the class. Please clean up so I don’t have to.”

Clint sat there as Tony quickly cleaned everything. He was done for the day, the thought of a nice long nap was becoming more and more welcoming, and dinner that night was taken care of. Tony would pay; he always paid, so he could probably splurge a few bucks for a coffee on his way home. 

“Come on, move your lazy ass,” Tony commanded and Clint staggered to his feet, head throbbing. “Dude you are so fucked up.”

“Thank you captain fucking obvious, I hadn’t realized.”

“Barton.”

Clint froze a few feet from the door. Banner was watching him, sitting on the edge of his desk. “You busy? Or can I talk with you a minute?”

Clint and Tony exchanged glances. “Good Luck,” Tony said with a smile before hurrying off, leaving Clint alone with the professor.

“Something wrong, sir?” He asked, turning and walking back to Banner’s desk.

“You doing alright?” He asked.

Clint blinked. “Pardon?”

“You’ve been coming to class late, you’ve barely been conscious and you look, well, horrible. Are you alright?” Banner sighed and took off his glasses, running a hand through his   
messy thick hair. “I was just wondering, I don’t mean to pry.”

“I’m fine, sir. Tony and I we just… You know, College.” Clint shrugged. He didn’t have a reason. He was lonely, bored and going out with Tony every other night was better than staying in a drinking by himself. 

“Well, Mr. Stark’s already done this shtick. You, on the other hand, haven’t. Going out isn’t going to get rid of your problems.”

“If it’s not too rude, why do you care?” Clint disliked the bitterness in his voice. Banner was just being nice but the hangover was being a bitch.

Banner considered him, his soft eyes tired as they scanned Clint’s face. “Because it’s my job? Because I went through the same damn thing? Because you look like you could use someone to talk to?” He shrugged. “I dislike seeing people, especially my students, slowly destroy themselves.”

“Then why not talk to Tony?”

He shrugged again. “I did. He ran out that door like roadrunner. Unlike you, Barton, Mr. Stark is not keen on people who try to help. He thinks he can handle his problems alone.”

“Amen to that.”

Banner chuckled. He had a nice laugh, weak, not often used form what Clint could tell. He had a nice smile too. “Anyway, I’m sorry for holding you up, but if you want to talk I’m   
free, I’m here, I'll listen. I can’t promise I can fix anything, but having someone to listen can help.”

Clint, surprised at himself, smiled. “Thanks, I guess.”

Banner smiled. “Off with you then.”

Clint made it to the door before glancing over his shoulder. Banner had busied himself with his things. Still reeling from what had happened, confused as to why a professor even gave a shit; Clint sped down the hall as best as his hangover allowed. 

Banner was an interesting fellow, to say the least.

The next class, Clint did his best to appear awake and interested. He watched as Tony did most of the work, asked questions, took notes for the first time since the beginning of the semester, smiled when Banner would glance at him. He didn’t know why his heart ached when Banner smiled back.  
He kept it up for a week or two, making it seem like he was doing better. He and Tony still went out almost every other night, but Clint did better with the drinking, not as much, not as heavy, no mixing, sobering up sooner rather than later. But at least he looked a bit more pulled together. Banner had pulled him aside one or two more times, but the conversations were short and never more than how’ve you been or what was the essay on.

That was until the infamous Thursday. Clint hated Thursdays, hated them with every fiber of his being. Despite being one of the best nights to go out drinking after classes, Thursdays were a solid reminder of all the bullshit the week had handed him and that the weekend still hadn’t arrived.   
He was late to Banner’s class, late and hung-over beyond belief. Tony had apparently met someone and had decided against going out to drink, because said person wanted to take him to dinner sober. So Clint had stayed home, holed up in his shitty dorm room with a case of cheap beer, drinking is no-existent sorrows away.  
The look Banner gave him told him everything he needed to know. He looked like shit, he probably should have stayed home, and Banner was definitely going to grab him after class. 

Cursing his existence, Clint stumbled over to Tony, blinking against the harsh lights. Tony stared at him.

“Holy Shit dude.”

“I know.”

“Why are you even here?”

“I know.”

“How are you alive?”

“I know.”

“Dude.”

Clint dropped into his seat. “I know, Tony. I know.”

“What happened?” Tony asked, setting down the tools he was working with and pulling off his goggles. “Seriously man, I haven’t seen you this fucked up since… Since Tasha.”

Clint shrugged. “Did I miss anything?”

“I’ve got you covered.”

“Love you.”

“Sleep,” Tony said, patting Clint’s hair. “I’ll handle this. I don’t even think Banner’s going to care if I just write your name on this one.”

Clint glanced up at Banner who was helping another student. Banner looked over at him and Clint hated what he saw. Worry, pity, sadness. It all made the tightness in his stomach worse.

He dozed off. Tony handled everything and woke him when class ended. And as expected, Banner grabbed him at the door.

“Clint, what happened?” he asked gently, reeling him back into the room. Clint felt too awful to fight him, he just let the man steer him into a chair. Banner’s hands were warm on his back as he did, warm and gentle.

“Nothing.”

Banner snorted. “Well that’s bullshit.”

“Hello captain-”

“Clint seriously, what happened?” Banner’s voice was firm, not amused in the slightest.

Clint sighed. “I drank too much, what do you think?”

“There’s always a reason.” Banner knelt down in front of him, putting his hands on Clint’s knees. “You can tell me, I’m not going to get you in trouble or anything.”

He hated this. He hated people, he hated feelings, he hated Thursdays. He hated everything right then except for-  
Except for Banner.

“I was lonely. I don’t have anyone. My roommate is a dickwad who’s never there and Tony just found a fuck buddy and now I’m on my own and I hate it. There,” He spat, “You happy?”

Banner gave his knee a squeeze. “Are you?”

Clint made a choking noise. “Do I look fucking happy to you?” Banner just shrugged. “No, I’m not happy. I hate everyone and everything and just want to… I don’t know jump off a building or something.”

Banner’s eyes darkened. He pulled Clint to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get coffee.”

“No.”

He grabbed his bag and took Clint’s arm. “That wasn’t a request.”

“Fuck, you’re strong.”

“Thanks.” Banner pulled him out into the hall as the next class started to arrive. He didn’t let go until they were out of the science building and walking towards the coffee shop on   
the corner. 

“This could probably be called a kidnapping,” Clint grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets, his eyes straining against the light.

“Hey, you’re still walking with me.” Banner sighed. “That means you consent.”

“I could run.”

Banner laughed. “I hope you don’t.”

Clint, for the first time in a week, found himself smiling, though it probably looked more like a grimace. “My head hurts too much.”

“Hangovers are bitches aren’t they?” 

They reached the coffee shop and Banner ordered their drinks, paying without even letting Clint argue with him. They took their drinks and Banner led the way back across campus to the Science building.

“Where are we going?”

“My office. Normally, I would let a comment about jumping off things slide,” Banner said with a frown. “Not today.”

“Oh, cause I’m special?” Clint asked, laughing as he followed Banner back upstairs to the small office at the end of the third floor. 

It was really small, a medium sized closet really, with a desk, a bookcase and a chair crammed inside. Everything had its proper place, organized and catalogued. Clint wasn’t surprised.

“Sit.” Banner ordered and Clint, thanks to the hang over, sat. Banner tossed him a bottle of pain killers and sat on his desk.

“You’re being nice to me. I don’t get it.” Clint swallowed the pills and tossed the bottle back. “You’ve got a ton of students and you feel sorry for me.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you, Clint.”

“Sure.”

“I don’t. I like you, you’re smart, and you’re a good kid. I hate to see good kids give up.” Banner sighed. “I just… I was like you, I didn’t have a lot of friends, well I didn’t have any. I drank a good bit; I had a lovely time with depression. I know what it’s like to,” he paused, “To be alone.”

“Bah, I bet you had tons of girl friends and you’re just trying to make me feel better.” Clint took a swig of coffee. “People who look like you aren’t lonely.”

“Gay ones are.”

Clint blinked. “Oh.” It wasn’t weird to him; it was more the bluntness of it that threw him off. “Yeah, I guess.”

“I was a gay science nerd with no friends and a toothpick for a body. Not exactly prime choice for the social circles.” Banner laughed. “So yeah, loneliness and I are good, good friends.”

“You get bullied?”

“A lot. Far too much. Nearly offed myself a couple of times. Almost succeeded twice.” Banner pulled up his sleeve to show Clint the long, faded scar trailing up his arm. 

“Shit.” Clint wished he was more coherent. “What stopped you?”

Banner shrugged. “I was letting them win? I don’t know. I had spent so much time suffering at the hands of others when all I needed to do was realize that they didn’t matter. We start dying the moment we are born, why waste that time? Why end it early? Why spend it running away from people when you can do some good?”  
He slipped off the desk and knelt down in front of Clint, putting his hands back on Clint’s knees. Clint was beginning to like Banner’s hands, they were warm, calloused just enough to give them texture. They were big, but always gentle as if he held everything he touched in reverence.

“What I’m trying to say, Clint, is that it gets better. You won’t always be lonely. You’ll find your passion and that’s what will get you through.” He smiled. “I promise.” He reached up with a gentle hand and wiped Clint’s face. Clint hadn’t realized he was crying. “I promise, Clint.”

Clint felt his body lurch forward, curling into a ball, his face pressing into Banner’s shoulder. Banner just wrapped his arms around him and held him there, not caring about the growing wet spot on his shoulder or the vice grip on his waist.

“You can’t promise that,” Clint choked.

“I can try.”

“It’s a lie.”

“Only if you let it be.”

Clint pulled away just enough to look at him. He wanted to hate the sincerity in Banner’s face, the hope in his voice. From where he was everything was shit and was just going to get worse and here was this man, this survivor of life’s bullshit, telling him he’d be alright.  
In a moment of what had to be insanity, Clint kissed him. Maybe he thought by kissing him he could tap into that hope, drain a bit of it for himself, put it in a jar and keep it hidden until the next time he thought about becoming friends with the pavement. Maybe that would keep him going.  
He’d expected Banner to shove him off, yell at him, throw him out of his office, but he didn’t. No he just knelt there, arms around him, kissing back with the same gentleness he used with his touch. When Clint pulled away, his pupils were blown, Banner’s cheeks lightly flushed, his breathing just a tad bit heavier. And if that didn’t sober Clint right up, nothing would have.

“Sorry,” He sputtered. “Sorry, I-“

Banner leaned in and cut him off. His lips were soft, not a hint of force to be found. This was all up to Clint. Clint could end it, he could run, drop the class, never see him again. Or he could press forward, tighten his grip around Banner’s waist, run his tongue along his lips, force his way inside, soak it in, take in every touch, every bit of heat Banner’s hands leant his body.

Clint was lucky he managed to put down his coffee before he got to his feet, pulling Banner with him. He deepened the kiss, nudging against Banner’s lips with his tongue, slipping inside when he moaned softly. Banner gave him full control over it, his hands running down Clint’s back and pulling him closer, their bodies flush against each other. 

“Can’t you get into trouble for this?” Clint asked when the broke for air, his hands sliding up Banner’s shirt, feeling the contours of his abs and chest, fingers running over the dark hair. “For making out with students in your office?”

“Maybe. Can’t remember. Kiss me again?”

Clint did and this time Banner tried to take control. He was still shy but Clint let him in, toyed with his tongue, groaning as Banner’s hands found their way to his ass and squeezed. Clint let go of him long enough to shed his jacket and catch his breath before banner pulled him back in, hands roaming as Clint started on the buttons of the professor’s shirt. 

Clothing was shed without much thought, shirts tossed here and there as they stripped, Clint’s hands fumbling with Banner’s belt. He thought about locking the door, wondering if anyone would come wandering in, but he hadn’t even known it was there so he let the thought go as Banner’s fingers slipped past the waist band of his boxers, his jeans slipping off his hips and pooling around his legs. Banner kissed along his jaw and down his neck, tongue running lightly against his collar bone, kisses pressed to his chest, hands squeezing his ass.

“Th-This what you had in mind?” Clint asked as Banner, nipped lightly at his neck. “When you grabbed… after class?”

“No.” Banner whimpered into his neck as Clint grinded up against him. “No I thought you’d tell me to fuck off not-”

“Offer to fuck with you?” Clint let out a breathless laugh as he finally managed to undo Banner’s belt.

“Well when you put it that way.” Banner slipped out of his own shirt and mouthed at Clint’s neck. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop talking.” Clint dropped to his knees and pulled out Banner’s cock, running his tongue along it. “I don’t care why. I don’t.”

He drowned himself in the noises Banner made as he kissed the dark hair over his cock, running his hands along the length, sucking lightly at the head, Banner doing his best not to buck into his mouth. Clint coaxed him into his mouth; hands firmly on his hips and Banner’s fingers gripped his hair. 

“Oh god,” Banner moaned, a noise Clint didn’t ever expect to hear from him. 

He took him deeper, fighting his gag reflex as best he could, bobbing back and forth, adding just the faintest hint of teeth. His own cock ached in his boxers but he didn’t move to   
touch it. He kept his focus on Banner, on what swipes of his tongue made him shudder, on how much pressure drew a moan from him. 

“St-stop. Please, please, wait,” Banner forced out, trying to pull Clint back.

“And I thought I was doing well,” Clint said and he could fight back the smirk. Banner was disheveled above him and a small sense of pride came from debauching something that seemed to put together. 

“Too good, far too good, god, Clint…” Banner was babbling, his hands drawing Clint back up to him so he could kiss him, snaking his hands around him and lift him up.

“Fuck, you’re strong.” Clint whined as Banner hoisted him up. He wrapped his legs around him, grinding against him and Banner tried to move, kissing along his jaw, nibbling his ear. “It’s hot.”

Banner dropped him on the perfectly arranged desk. “Thank you.” God his voice had gone all husky and heated and lust dripped from it, sent chills down Clint’s spine. He whined as Banner rolled his hips against him, dug his fingers into Clint’s ass with surprising force. 

“F-fuck me, come on.” Clint begged. He was begging, when was the last time he had begged for anything? “Don’t be a goddamn tease. Don’t change your mind, come on.” He groaned, probably loud enough to be heard from the hall, as Banner gave his cock a squeeze, sliding his boxers off. “Please don’t change your mind.”

“Shush,” Banner kissed him, lightly, gently, as his free hand fumbled in a drawer. “You can’t be so loud.”

“A bit hard when you’re- Hnng!” Clint arched as Banner kissed the head of his cock, running his tongue over it until he found the lube. “God do that again.”

“They’ll hear you. They’ll come in to see who’s making those noises,” Banner murmured in his ear as he slicked his fingers. “And what am I supposed to say?”

“Tell them I’m a slut. I don’t care. Please just get on with it.”

Banner laughed. “You sure?”

“Just fuck me Banner.”

“Bruce.”

Clint whined as a finger teased his entrance. He hadn’t been with a man in at least a year. He and Tony fooling around didn’t count and masturbating wasn’t the same. “What?”

“Bruce. Stop calling me Banner.” He kissed Clint’s cheek. “Bruce. Or we stop here.”

“Bruce, Bruce, Bruce, please fuck me.” Clint groaned, grabbing for Bruce’s face and kissing him. “You got me like this, end it.” He whined out a please as one of Bruce’s fingers slid into him, slowly, gently stretching him as Bruce cooed in his ear, shushing him. 

Clint shoved his hand into his mouth as Bruce added a second finger, fighting back the cry. This one hurt, not badly, but more than he had anticipated. Bruce slowed his fingers and pulled Clint’s hand away, kissing him instead, inhaling the moans and whimpers. He crushed their lips together when he pressed the third finger in, Clint moaning loudly against him, hips arching up off the desk. 

“Bruce please, please, please, please,” Clint chanted, fingers digging into Bruce’s shoulders, nails leaving long red marks in the tanned skin.   
Bruce pulled out his fingers and, still kissing him, did his best to slick himself so he wouldn’t hurt Clint. Clint didn’t care at this point; he’d take it dry, even if it hurt like hell. He let his hand pump himself slowly and Bruce finished, biting his lip as he tried to take it slow. Bruce stopped him, pulling his hand away and taking hold of his hips.

“Hold still.”

The first slide was slow and aching, Bruce bigger than Clint had expected, his body trying to fight against it as his mind willed him to relax. Bruce peppered his face with kiss, his hands rubbing loving caresses into his thighs.

“Oh god.”

“It’s alright.”

“Fuck you’re big.”

“Stop squirming and relax. I’ll go slowly.”

“Don’t you dare.” Clint rolled his hips, forcing Bruce in all the way. “I said fuck me, that means fuck me.” it hurt but not enough for it to stop. Clint could feel his body relaxing, remembering that this was alright. The dull ache was slowly turning to pleasure. 

Bruce smiled against his neck and tried to steady his breathing. “You’re so demanding.”

“You’re not moving.”

He didn’t for a few minutes, but then Bruce started a slow, tantalizing pace, his hips moving smoothly in a steady rhythm as Clint arched and writhed beneath him, hands pinned to the desk, head tilted back, eyes closed.

“Bruce, oh god, Bruce, harder, please-” he babbled, trying to meet the even thrusts.

Bruce tried to comply, his movements becoming more and more rough and ragged, never losing control. He shushed Clint, trying to soften the moans that by this point could probably be heard from the end of the hall. The desk creaked under them as they moved, the sound of skin on skin and slick wetness filling their ears, mixed with Clint’s whines and Bruce’s low moans.   
Clint begged him, loudly, begging him, willing him, harder, faster, more, more, almost there and then the room went white, Clint’s body arching into Bruce. Bruce came not long after, Clint’s body seizing around him driving him to his climax with a loud growl of Clint’s name against his chest. He pressed himself against Clint, buried his face in his neck, let go of his wrists and ran his hands along his sides, trying to regain his breath.

“God we need…. To have… more of these… pep talks,” Clint gasped after a moment or two. “Seriously. A lot more. Make it weekly.”

Bruce laughed, breathless, his chest heaving as he pulled out. “People will talk.”

Clint sat up, noting the pleasant sting in his ass. He pulled Bruce close, kissed him, kissed his cheek, nuzzled his neck in a way he hadn’t done since, well Tasha.   
“I don’t care.”

Bruce smiled. “Why don’t we start with dinner? See where that takes us.”

Clint kissed his neck. “What like a date?”

“More or less.”

“Isn’t it frowned upon?”

“We don’t have to scream it from the rooftops. You’re legal so technically it’s fine.” Bruce caught his lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll make dinner. We can talk.”

“Talking is boring.”

“I’m not sleeping with you again if we don’t.”

Clint pouted at him. “Well you’re moving to commitment awfully quickly.”

Bruce laughed and kissed his forehead. “You started it.”

“When should I come by?”

“Tomorrow night? Seven? Or are you going out drinking with Mr. Stark?”

Clint shook his head and the realization that for once, on a Friday night, he had plans, plans with an actual person and not some nameless drunk at a party, made his stomach tighten. In a good way. It was weird, Clint didn’t understand it. But he smiled. He smiled and kissed Bruce again, and again, as many times as Bruce would let him. 

Maybe he ought to give Thursdays another chance.


End file.
